Gonna Love You With My Hands Tied
by SpookyClaire
Summary: AU. Kurt Hummel is a Broadway star, but one day he sees a sad looking young man staring longingly at the theatre. When he discovers the man is selling his body, Kurt tries to help the kid out, but what happens when he starts to fall for the kid?
1. Chapter 1

**Gonna Love You With My Hands Tied**

**Summary**: AU. Kurt Hummel is a Broadway star, but one day he sees a sad looking young man staring longingly at the theatre. When he discovers the man is selling his body, Kurt tries to help the kid out, but what happens when he starts to fall for the kid?

**Note**: I just want to say...I started this story over a year ago, so I used the 'West Side Story' idea long before Glee ;) Not like it matters, anyway.

Enjoy!

-0-

Kurt tried to think hard of how he found himself here. He wasn't a rule breaker. He had had perfect attendance at school, he'd never missed a day of work, he's never broken a law…hell, he'd never even gotten a parking ticket! Kurt Hummel was not a rule breaker, he was a good guy.

So why the hell was he chained to a metal desk in a police station – when he was supposed to be on stage performing with his theatre group, mind you – with the threat of prostitution charges?

Well, his mother had always warned him to watch out for the pretty ones…she probably just never thought it'd take him this far.

-1-

As the curtain dropped he let his smile shrink a little and ran a hand over his sweaty face. As he exited the stage he roughly shook his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair, and pulled the mic from his head. He walked into the back room where the rest of the cast already was. A familiar Asian girl came up to him, a bright smile on her face and wires hanging out of her large fanny-pack.

"Excellent as always, Kurt – or should I say, _Anybodys_." The twenty five year old was not ashamed to say he was playing a female in this play.

"Thanks, Tina." He smiled, as he continued to struggle with the mic before handing it to her. "Everything worked tonight! Don't ever get sick again, your stand-in yesterday forgot to turn on my microphone…and Rachel's!"

Tina's eyes widened in horror as she stuck the microphone and its wires into a small bag and put that in her pack. "What? No one told me that!"

"We didn't get the chance…but let's just say it won't be a problem. I don't think he's coming back."

"Oh God, Rachel tore him apart, didn't she?"

"Would you expect anything less?" He grinned and Tina laughed, before patting his shoulder and running off to collect the other microphones.

He plopped down in front of the mirror designated especially for him and grabbed one of the towels on the table and scrubbed at his face, removing the sweat and makeup as best he could before heading off to the men's bathroom to wash his face. Once his face was as good as it was scrubbed took his time and changed out of his costume and into a pair of designer jeans and a nice button-up. He made his way out of the bathroom and back to the main area where only a few people remained.

Kurt was lucky to be working with the group of people he was working with. He'd worked with them all many a time and they'd all become good friends. There was Brittany and Santana, who'd been dating for almost three years (Santana playing Anita in the show, Brittany playing Velma). There was the star of the play, Rachel, and her fellow star and boyfriend, Finn. There was Sam, Action in the show. There was Puck (Bernardo), and his temporarily-retired-from-the-stage wife, Quinn. There was also the behind-the-scenes crew that they'd worked with so many times: Artie, their director; Tina their crew director; their choreographer was Mike, Tina's husband. Kurt's closest friend, Mercedes, was helping Mike with choreography for this production. The large group had been friends for over a decade, all coming from the same town, and they decided to start a small theatre group together. They were even friends with the owners of this theatre, couple Will and Emma.

Their theatre group, 'New Directions', had started exactly five years ago in Lima, Ohio. They'd become such a booming success in their first year that by their second year they were all on Broadway – doing different shows, sadly enough. But for their five year anniversary they all returned to their roots to do shows in Lima for the year. All the critics in New York were just eating it up – it was fun _and_ good for their careers. Two birds, one stone.

"Kurt," A voice called from behind him. He turned to see the visibly pregnant Quinn standing there. "We're all heading out for some food – Artie's treat." She grinned, "You in?"

"Have I ever rejected free food?"

"Good point. Well, we're all gonna meet at _Chunk's_. See ya' there?"

"See ya' there!" He reached down and slipped his duffel bag onto his shoulder, hanging his costume on the rack as he passed it. The room had gone from full and bustling to empty in about only a half an hour. He glanced around the room before flipping off the light and closing the door.

He made his way to the front door, the crowds all having dispersed by now. Once he was in the main area he stopped by the door, noting a young man standing outside. He wore a short pair of shorts, a tight white t-shirt that clung to him, a worn leather jacket, and a pair of…heels? That was weird.

Kurt watched as the young man stared adoringly at their poster for _West Side Story_. He watched as the man noticed a program lying on the ground, footprints all over it and edges ripped. He looked around before picking it up and hugging it to himself.

Suddenly Kurt's watching was cut short as a loud call from the doorman, Joe, rang out. "Hey! Hey, what did I say? Get out of here!" Looking like a scared rabbit, the kid turned in the other direction and ran. "Damn whores." He cursed.

Deciding to make his entrance Kurt opened the main doors and walked outside. "What was that all about, Joe?"

"Oh, Kurt! Hey, man! Great job tonight. People keep talkin' 'bout you breaking barriers and all that crap." The doorman grinned.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Kurt said, not even forcing a smile. "But what was that about, with that kid?"

"What kid? Oh! You mean the hooker?"

"He was a prostitute?" Well, that explained the heels.

"Yeah, they're always tramping around here at night. Propositionin' the audience."

"I don't think he was 'tramping'-" Kurt started but Joe cut him off.

"Eh, you seen one whore you seen 'em all. What else could they be doing?" He shook his head, before giving a single wave, "Anyway, g'night, man."

"Night, Joe." Kurt adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder and started to make his way to his car. He tried to think about going to _Chunk's_ and having fun, but all he could think about was that kid.

He shook his head as he got to his car. He turned the key and started to make his way down the road towards the restaurant. But the closer and closer he got, the more he realized he _really_ didn't want to go in. And for no real reason, either. With a sigh he stopped at a red light, he could see the entrance from there, and yet he found himself pulling out his phone and typing out a message.

_On second thought, I don't think I'm gonna go. Have fun!_

He hit send before he even realized what he wrote. As the light turned green his phone vibrated. Seeing as there was no one behind him he pulled out his phone and read the message from Mercedes.

_You sure, babe? Well, we'll miss you! _

Kurt shook his head and stuck his phone in the cup-holder before letting his foot off the break and heading forward. He wasn't sure where he was going or why, but it wasn't towards his apartment. Once he passed the theatre again he knew where he was headed.

He headed slowly down the street, trying to see if he could catch up with a certain boy he'd seen go this way. He had no idea why he was doing this – or even what he was planning on doing. All he knew was that this was probably not the best idea.

The street was empty and for a moment Kurt thought that maybe he'd lost the kid. But then he went around a bend and saw a boy walking with ease in his cherry read, sky-high heels. He drove up beside him and slowed the car, the boy noticed and walked toward Kurt.

"Hey, looking for a friend?" He asked, his voice low and seductive, as Kurt lowered the window.

"Uh…I-"

The boy chuckled slightly, "First time, huh? Well, don't worry…I can be gentle. For one-twenty an hour, of course." Kurt, feeling completely out of his element, just nodded. _This is a horrible, horrible idea,_ his mind screamed as the boy got into his car. "So, where to? Your place?" The boy asked as Kurt slowly started driving again.

"Um…n-no…" Kurt found himself turning into the parking lot of the local park.

"Ah, I see. Wife at home?"

"What? No!"

The boy chortled. "You can relax, you know." He leaned far forward, "I promise I won't tell." He whispered to Kurt, licking his earlobe.

Kurt quickly leaned away, a shiver running through his body. "Look, I-I don't-" He looked around, as if someone might jump out and tell him what exactly he was doing.

"Oh fuck." The boy whispered, reaching for the car door and throwing it open.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Getting the hell out of here before you can signal your _buddies_." He snarled the word so harshly it actually seemed like an insult.

"What? Wait, what—what buddies?"

The kid stopped halfway out the car, "Your little redneck buddies aren't gonna come out and beat me with a shovel?"

Kurt's eyes widened, "What?" he squawked.

He seemed to relax a bit at Kurt's naïveté. "Ok." He slowly sat back down, "Sorry, can never be too careful. Especially in this town." Then suddenly the seductive smirk was back. "Now, what would you like me to do? Or would you like to take the initiative? You seem like you would like to…have the power." He winked as he ran his hand up Kurt's thigh, as if he _hadn't_ just thought he was about to get beaten with a shovel.

Ignoring his arousal, Kurt leaned away again. "I—I don't want to have sex." He said stupidly.

"Oh, a blow job, huh? Well, I'm told I have very…soft lips." There was that smirk again.

"No, no, I-uh-I don't want any of that…I, uh, want…to…talk?"

The smirk disappeared, "What, are you some kind of Holden Caulfield wanna-be?" Kurt got a surprised look on his face. "What? Just 'cause I'm a whore I can't be well versed in literature?" Kurt grinned a little and looked down, wincing slightly at what the boy called himself. "So…what do you want to talk about? Issues with the wife?"

"No—no, I'm not married."

"Girlfriend?"

"No. No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No. I don't have anyone. I'm rarely in one place long enough to have one."

"Traveling salesman?"

"Something like that."

"Well. If you don't have romantic issues to talk about what _do_ you want to talk about?"

"I don't know…you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is there anything _you_ want to talk about?"

The kid laughed a bit, "You have no idea. But I don't have any money for a therapist, so…" He shrugged.

"Well, I'll be your therapist, for free?"

"You do realize that even though you're not fucking my brains out that you still have to pay my hourly fee." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah…yeah, I know." Kurt said, again suppressing a wince at the bluntness of the boy's words.

"So you want to pay me…to talk about me?"

"Uh…" Kurt ran his hand through his usually perfect hair. "Look…I—I'm not really sure why I did this. I saw you outside the theatre and I just-"

"Theatre?" The low seductive voice was gone, and replaced with a young, higher voice.

"Yeah, I saw you looking at a poster outside of _Schuster's_ and I-"

"Why were you at the theatre?"

"Well, I was in the show and I-" Kurt was cut off yet again as the boy reached up with a lightning fast slap and turned the light on. Upon looking at Kurt's face in the light for the first time his eyes widened.

"Oh my God, you're Kurt Hummel."

Kurt's eyes widened, "Uh…you know me?"

"You're playing Anybodys in _West Side Story_ right now. You've starred on Broadway!" Kurt nodded, not knowing what else to do. "Oh my—oh wow. I-" The boy couldn't finish, it seemed it was now his turn to be at a loss for words. He was completely star-struck.

"So, uh, you know me, but what's your name?"

"Blaine." The kid said, nodding. His voice still had yet to go back to the low, seductive tone. The higher voice made him seem so much younger.

"How old are you, Blaine?"

"Twenty one."

Kurt's eyes widened, "You're twenty one?" He looked hardly looked twenty, but he also too old…the look in his eye read years older. But either way…he was still a kid. A baby.

They sat in silence for a bit, before Blaine finally spoke up again, "If we're done, do you think you could drive me to Chippewa? It's kind of a long walk." Chippewa was a notorious street where anyone who needed money went to sell themselves to willing customers.

Kurt shook his head, "No, no problem. I just…you want to go?" He felt surprisingly sickened by the thought of this…this _boy_ walking the streets anymore.

"Well, if I don't go back I don't really eat tomorrow."

"Well why don't you go home? I'll-"

"You don't get it. I need the money."

"Well. What if I pay you for the whole night. 'Til sun rise."

The kid's eyes widened, "You realize that that's ten hours, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And you also realize my hourly rate is one-twenty?"

"Yes."

"And you realize that that comes out to twelve hundred dollars?" Kurt had had yet to do the math, but he knew that was it. A voice in his head screamed, _What are you doing?_ He ignored it.

"Yes. I know. Here, I can write you a check right now. Just…I'll write the check if you'll just go home instead of to Chippewa."

The kid's eyebrows were high into his overly gelled hairline. "…why are you doing this?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Because…because I saw something in your eye when I saw you outside of the theatre. And I just…I couldn't stop thinking about it…about you." Kurt shook his head, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment.

Blaine still looked surprised. "I—th-thank you. In all my years no one has ever done anything like that for me." He looked about ready to cry as he reached up and turned off the light._ All his years_? God, how long had he been doing this?

"Do you…do you want a ride home?"

Blaine nodded, "That would be nice, thank you. If you go to Chippewa and turn onto Alan Street you'll hit it in a few blocks." Kurt nodded and turned the car back on and started on the path he was told. They said nothing to each other until Blaine told him to stop.

"You live _here_?" It was an old, shabby tenant building, notorious for being over-populated, dirty, and dangerous.

"Yeah, well…I'm in the smallest room. I only pay half of what the people with normal apartments do." Blaine didn't have too much emotion in his tone as he stared at the brick building.

"Um…" Kurt felt almost worse leaving this boy here than on Chippewa. "Why—why don't you go get stuff you'll need and you can spend the night at my place?"

Blaine raised an eyebrow but shook his head, "No really, it's ok, you've done enough. I mean, it looks bad on the outside. But it's not that bad, I'm used to it." He said, motioning to the building.

Kurt shook his head, "Well…I mean, I don't want to sound rude, but I _am_ paying you. Please, stay with me."

"So, you're blackmailing me into _not_ spending the night in _this_ place?" Kurt nodded, "God, you are freaking backwards." The kid smiled a little, "Well, I suppose if you're blackmailing me I _could_ be persuaded."

Kurt felt oddly relieved, "Yeah, yeah good. Go get what you need." Blaine got out of the car and trotted into the building. Kurt had to stop himself as he found himself staring at the boy's shapely ass. Shaking his head he hit the lock button and sat for a moment and thought about what had just happened.

First, he turned down free food to go find a prostitute he didn't know.

Second, he offered to pay him twelve hundred dollars _not_ to go 'tramping' for the night.

Third, he'd offered him a place to stay for free – or rather he was paying him to spend the night.

And fourth, he found himself aroused by the troubled kid.

Yup, that seemed to be what happened. As long as he kept track.

There was a knock at the window and he turned to see Blaine standing there, an large, old backpack on his shoulder. "I-uh-I thought you might have left." He smiled as he opened the now unlocked door, "But here you are."

"Here I am. Here, throw your stuff in the back." Blaine did as told, "That's all you need?" The boy just shrugged.

"Can't own too much in this place…you won't have it for too long if you do."

Kurt felt his heart break a bit more. "Oh. Y-yeah, I guess." He turned on the car and started to drive away when he felt the boy's eyes on him. Glancing to the side he found him staring. "What?"

"Why are you so nervous? Am I walking into a trap?" The boy sounded worried, but also like he didn't really believe that was the case.

"Why do you keep asking that?"

"It's happened on more than one occasion."

"What? Someone's picked you up and did what?"

"Each _fun_ experience was different." He said sarcastically, "One time a group of people jumped out of the bushes and almost bashed my skull in with a shovel. Another time a guy purposely crashed his car. And another time one guy chanted verses from the bible as he tried to choke me to death." As soon as he finished rambling the boy seemed to realize what he'd said, as his eyes widened. "Sorry. I, uh, don't usually talk this much."

But it didn't matter. Kurt looked downright horrified. "Holy fuck. Oh my…"

Blaine seemed to relax even more at the actor's reaction. "I guess that means you hadn't planned anything like that for me?"

Kurt vigorously shook his head, hair falling into his face as he processed what he just heard. "Why would they do that?"

"Homosexuality is a sin." The boy mimicked in a deeper voice, "I need to be punished for being a temptress." Blaine rolled his eyes and looked at Kurt, "It's always my fault for tempting them. It's never their fault for sticking their dick in me."

Kurt flinched once again at the bluntness of the statement. "I'm sorry." He said quietly.

Blaine just shrugged, "Bills to pay and all that."

Kurt paused, "Why do you do it?" He asked, but Blaine just shook his head.

"I'd rather not talk about that." Kurt just nodded and the two remained silent until they reached his apartment building. "You live _here_?" It was the most expensive building in the city, the nicest one Lima had to offer.

"Yeah, just for this year though."

Blaine nodded, "New Directions' home tour was such a good idea." He gushed.

"You know about it?"

"I absolutely love the theatre. My parents and I used to go all the time." He said the second part softly, trailing off as he realized what he was saying. Kurt just smiled, unsure of what to say. With a shrug the two opened their doors and stepped out of the car. As they walked towards the building Kurt wondered why he'd done this, why he'd tracked this boy down only to beg him to spend the night. It was stupid, not at all thought out, and probably dangerous in some way.

But despite all that, he was glad he had done it. And he had no idea why.


	2. Chapter 2

**10/16/11 Edit**: Some of the spacing was weird with italicized words, I only just noticed. So I fixed it. If it's still weird just tell me, I'm not sure what's going on with that.

-2-

Blaine had been gone in the morning.

All that was left of him was a pot of hot coffee, a note, and a business card. Kurt had to squelch his disappointment. _Well, what did you think was going to happen?_ He thought harshly, _Think you were gonna take him under your wing and all his problems would be solved? Yeah. Sure. Something's you can't fix._

"Something's I can't fix." Saying it aloud left a bad taste in his mouth. Kurt didn't like to leave loose ends. He liked to have things wrapped up in a nice neat bow.

But sometimes he'd forget that doesn't always happen with people.

"_Kurt,_" the note read, "_Thank you so much for everything. I will never forget what you did. If you ever are looking for a friend, here's my business card. Come in on the weekend, it'll be on me. Enjoy the coffee! - Blaine_"

Kurt shook his head at the note. _What had I done? Written him a hefty check? _He shook his head again, crinkling the note ever so slightly as his grip tightened. _What if he's a drug addict? What if he's going to use the money for crack or something? Way to fuel a druggie, Kurt. Real good Samaritan you are!_

"Why am I being so hard on myself?" He wondered aloud. He _had_ done a good thing, hadn't he? He gave a troubled kid some money and a place to stay. Usually that was left under the 'good deeds' column. But Kurt just couldn't shake the feeling there was so much more he could have done for the kid.

Shaking his head he picked up the business card that had been next to the note. It was simple, the words 'Trans Action' sat in huge letters at the top. The 'A' in 'Action' was a red stiletto heel, much like the ones Blaine had been wearing last night. Underneath the name was an address and a phone number. On the back in the same handwriting as the note 'Ask for Blainers' was written.

Kurt stared hard at the card for a long moment, unsure of what to think. _'Trans Action'? Isn't that a gay strip club?_ He supposed it made sense, but he didn't like the idea at all. Sticking the card in his wallet, he downed the coffee and went to get ready for another day of shows.

"Something's can't be fixed." He said aloud once more, hoping if he said it enough maybe he'd believe it.

This was going to become his mantra, he just knew it.

00

It had been a long first week of shows, and they still had two more weeks before they moved on to a different play. Kurt was tired. He was restless….and it was all Blaine's fault. Kurt couldn't stop thinking about him. He wondered what he was doing, if he was alright. He wondered how he'd gotten home the next morning from Kurt's apartment. He wondered if some homophobe had beaten his skull in and if he was dead in a ditch somewhere.

Every now and then he pulled the business card from his wallet and stared at the address, wondering if Blaine would be there if he went. He wondered what that place was like, or if he'd get caught going. He told himself a million times he couldn't go, that it was stupid.

But for some reason he found himself there now.

Kurt opened the door of the bar, trying to be as invisible as possible. He had pulled on a baseball cap, an over-sized sweatshirt, and a pair of Finn's jeans. He didn't want anyone to recognize him. This could ruin his career.

_So __why __the __fuck __was __he __here_?

He forced his legs to move, walking up to the bar to the left of the main doors. He glanced around the room as he did so. It was dark, rather small too, maybe double the size of the greenroom at Shuester's. The walls were black with neon writing all over them. Kurt didn't bother to read what they said after his eyes went past the word 'cock' for the third time. There was a 3-foot high partition wall separating the bar area from the stage area. The bar was simple, going all across the wall with stools packed close together. It was the only area besides the stage that had any direct overhead light on.

On the other side of the partition was a stage that came out like a wide, circular runway. There were three poles lining the stage that the runway jutted out from. There were chairs and benches lined around the stage and runway, and several men occupied the seats. They were all cheering, clearly a performance was about to commence. Shaking his head, Kurt tore his eyes from the stage and turned back to the bar. He swallowed his pride and opened his mouth to ask the bartender who 'Blainers' was but was cut off as the sound of drums suddenly blared through the room.

_How __dare __you __say __my __behavior__'__s __unacceptable_.

As the sexy, downright _delicious_ voice flowed through the room Kurt spun around so quickly he was sure he'd get whiplash. He felt himself gasp inwardly as he took in the person on the stage.

There…there stood Blaine.

_So condescending, unnecessarily critical._

He didn't look like the boy that had been sleeping in Kurt's apartment the previous week. Kurt remembered looking in on the sleeping kid that night. Blaine had simply brought with him an old gray sweatshirt and navy sweatpants. Now he wore tight leather hot pants and a fish-net tank top. Leather straps were wrapped around his arms and legs like the ties of ballet shoes.

_I have a tendency of getting very physical. _

Blaine rolled his hips erotically and Kurt had to stop himself from outwardly groaning. He tried to swallow all the feelings bubbling up in him as he felt himself fall back onto one of the bar stools.

_So watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle. _

As he all but snarled the word 'step' he stomped his foot and suddenly other dancers in similar outfits danced onto the stage. They made their way to Blaine, running their hands all over the young man. Blaine threw his arms out, thrusting his hips, and the dancers flew back like they had been hit. Some went off to dance suggestively on the poles, others continued to dance (grind and crawl on the floor) behind Blaine.

He watched Blaine strut around the stage as he continued the song (it was then he noticed the stilettos were once again on the singer's feet). Blaine pressed his back against a fellow dancer as he sang, sliding down the man like he was one of the poles. Kurt wrapped his arms around his midsection, screwing his jaw shut when he'd realized it had fell open.

_What you're doing is screwing things up inside my head. You should know better, you never listened to a word I said. _

As he sang the word 'screwing' a small, suggestive smirk crossed the boy's face. Kurt felt a quiver of desire flow through the crowd. Or maybe it was just him.

_Clutching your pillow and writing in a naked sweat, hoping somebody someday will do you like I did. _

Blaine licked his lips and writhed in rather convincing ecstasy against another dancer. Kurt bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, his dick throbbing painfully in his thankfully loose pants. _This__is__what__you__get_, he thought to himself, _this__is__what__you__fucking__get__for__going__to__a__fucking__strip__club_.

The dancers joined Blaine at the front of the stage. Blaine continued to sing, eyes closed as the dancers ran their hands all over him, licking him, biting him.

_Does it kill, does it burn, is it painful to learn that it's me that has all the control? _

He opened his eyes and glanced out at the crowd, smirk back in place as he gripped the hair of one of the dancers sucking his shoulder. He pulled hard on the dancer's hair and, as if they all were one, the dancers fell away once again. He strutted to the end of the runway with the dancers now on the ground, writhing at his feet, grabbing at his legs like he was the seconding coming. (_Bad __fucking __time __for __puns, __Kurt_, his mind screamed.)

_Is there anyone out there, 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe._

The song came to an end, and the way Blaine rolled his hips each time he said 'harder' continued to play in Kurt's head. He blinked only to find Blaine was gone from the stage and the dancers were left behind to dance erotically to Garbage's _Queer_, some coming down from the stage to give the men personal dances. He watched as one man in a suit was led to the left of the stage where a doorway with a curtain as its door led to some private rooms. Kurt shuddered as he thought of Blaine going back there with some horny businessman.

Kurt glanced around at the thought of Blaine, the younger boy was nowhere to be seen. Looking up Kurt saw that the bar tender wasn't paying any attention to him and everyone else in the room were otherwise engaged, so he stood and made his way to the other side of the stage – not wanting to walk in on that businessman's 'private show'. As suspected he found a door and went through, slightly surprised by the lack of security guarding backstage. _This __is __a __gay __bar __in __Ohio, __Kurt, __not __Broadway._ He made his way down the short hallway before coming across another door. He turned the knob and opened the door before he could stop himself.

The room looked like the disorganized prop room at Shuester's. Costumes and feather boas and high-heeled boots were flung around the room. In the center were two tables, a wide mirror lined the wall behind them. Blaine was sitting in front of one of the tables, sans-leather straps, running a washcloth over his face.

The twenty-one-year-old was the only one in the room, and Kurt thought for a moment maybe if he backed out slowly he could get away. But then Blaine spotted him in the mirror.

"Kurt!" He cried, spinning around. An excited smile played across his face instantly. It was quite a contrast to the suggestive smirks that Blaine had held on stage. He seemed to catch himself, and the boyish smile was soon replaced with a coy one. "I was starting to worry you'd never let me…return your favor." He licked his lips, standing and stepping close, playing with one of the draw strings on Kurt's sweatshirt. "Come for payment?" He smirked, tugging on the string.

"Um—I—er, no." Kurt's voice cracked and he cursed every non-existent God out there as he cleared his throat. "I mean no, no. I came by to see, uh, to see how you were."

Blaine's hand dropped from Kurt's sweatshirt, hitting his side with an audible slap. Blaine's seductive look was gone as he glanced up at Kurt with a look of almost annoyance, a look that read 'are you really serious?'

"You came to see how I was doing."

"Yeah, I wanted to make sure that you…uh…got home safe the other day."

"You came _here_ to see if I got home safe _a __week __ago_?"

Kurt nodded, swallowing. "Uh, yeah. Yes. I guess?"

Blaine chuckled slightly, though from the look in his eye he was clearly perplexed. "Ok. That's not weird at all."

There was a pause, and Kurt stood awkwardly as Blaine turned back to the table, tugging off the fish-net shirt and pulling a gray hoodie over his bare chest (the same hoodie he'd slept in the other night, Kurt noticed). He soon pulled off the hot pants too and Kurt thanked all the gods he should start believing in that the kid had underwear on. He pulled on the sweatpants he'd also worn to bed at Kurt's. He sat in front of the mirror, pulling on his glasses (Kurt couldn't help but wonder how poor his sight was when he didn't wear them). He continued to get himself ready to leave and Kurt allowed himself to speak again.

"You, uh, you done for the day?" He asked, unnecessarily clearing his throat after he spoke.

Blaine nodded, "Yeah, I've been here dancing since opening and they only let me do one or two performances a night anyway."

"Let you?"

"This place is only open on the weekends, so if I performed too much they'd have to pay me more. They don't want to do that." The boy shrugged.

"Why do you…uh…uh, _go __out __at __night_ if you're here?" Kurt stumbled over his words causing Blaine to turn in his seat, smirking at Kurt (this time a laughing look on his features instead of a sexual one – though Kurt _did_ notice the mirth didn't really meet his eyes).

"You mean why am I a 'lady of the night' if I'm employed here?" Kurt just nodded, his cheeks going hot. "Like I said, this place is only open on the weekends, and it's kind of underground since Lima ain't exactly gay central. I need money for food and rent and stuff," he said, shrugging, "So I tend to need to do both."

There was another awkward pause as Blaine turned back to the mirror and ran a comb through his hair, freeing his curls. Kurt stared at the young man, trying to think of what it must be like to have to do whatever you can just to be able to pay for the few necessities in life, not knowing if you'd have enough money to survive. If you even called Blaine's life surviving.

"You, uh, you have a wonderful voice." Kurt said before he could think about what he was saying.

Blaine stopped, slowly lowering the comb from his hair. He stared at Kurt in the mirror, looking awed. "You watched me perform?"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! Abort! _

"I uh, happened to walk in as you started 'Harder to Breathe'." He shrugged, trying to play it off as nothing, but from the look Blaine was giving him he knew he was failing. "What—uh—what are you doing now?" Kurt asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

"What I always do. Going home and crashing."

Kurt shuddered at the thought of Blaine's 'home'. "Why, uh, why don't we go get some food? I hear Denny's is open 24 hours a day." Kurt inwardly shuddered again, this time at the thought of greasy food. But if it meant this boy could stay off the streets and have a good meal he was willing to risk his thighs for it.

Blaine's eyes lit up, "That'd be awesome! Just give me a second to clean up."

Kurt nodded and gestured toward the hall, backing out the door. "I'll just – uh – wait out here, then."

00

"_God_, Kurt, that's so _awesome_!" Blaine gushed, eyes wide, full of awe. Kurt had been telling him some stories about New Directions and Blaine was just eating it up. His admiration and excitement was so real that Kurt himself was in awe of the boy. Blaine was so…so genuine. So innocent. But then Kurt would think back to sitting in the car with Blaine as he licked his ear lobe. He could hardly comprehend that that man was the same person as this boy, this _puppy_.

During the ride to the diner Blaine had been a little awkward, clearly unsure of how to interact with someone he admitted to admiring. Not to mention Kurt imagined that the only time Blaine was in a car with another man he was about to have sex with him (after meeting him thirty seconds prior) and Kurt had made it clear that wasn't happening today. But once Kurt started talking about New Directions Blaine had warmed right up – practically melted. He was a total fanboy, and Kurt found it quiet endearing. Blaine knew a surprising amount of information about Kurt and his friends, but just the basics…not as much as some of those kids on those blog sites knew.

"What about Brittany? What's she like? She's so beautiful…and I hear she's an amazing dancer." Blaine asked, taking Kurt from his thoughts. He'd been asking about all the different members of New Directions during their dinner.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh outright. "Well, you got that right. But don't let Santana hear you say that, she'll rip you apart."

Blaine smiled, but titled his head to the side, "Why?"

"They're together."

Blaine nodded, "Right, right, I knew that! But why wouldn't she like me calling her girlfriend pretty?"

"She doesn't like anyone…encroaching on her woman."

Blaine laughed that time, popping a fry into his mouth as he spoke. "Because I'm _such_ a threat."

Kurt smiled warmly, "Santana would love you. She'd eat you alive, but she'd love you." Blaine grinned brightly, clearly pleased with the idea. "Y'know, why don't you come to a show sometime? I could score you some tickets." Blaine froze, a fry half-way to his mouth.

"I—what?" Blaine asked, as if completely unable to comprehend the idea.

"Yeah, I bet it'd be a lot of fun. You said you used to go to shows with your—I mean, when you were younger." Kurt quickly corrected himself when he remembered the way Blaine had sounded when he spoke about his parents. Kurt saw a flicker in Blaine's eye but he seemed to push the feelings to the side because he was smiling.

"Kurt—you—you have no idea how much I-" Blaine bit his lip hard, as if debating what he wanted to share. "Theatre has gotten me through a lot. If I got to see…" Blaine shook his head, "I've been following New Directions for years now, I've read every newspaper article. The fact you guys got out of this city and got to do what you love…I just figured maybe if you could do it I could do it too." He was clearly conflicted with what he wanted to say. "If I got to see a _New Directions_ show _live_…I think I'd die." He laughed a little, awkwardly. "I sound like a teenage girl."

Kurt gave Blaine a soft smile, "No you don't." He reached across the table and placed his hand over Blaine's. He had so much he wanted to say to Blaine. He just wanted to take him and hug him and never let him go. He wanted to take Blaine away from here to live happily ever after in a nice home with a full wardrobe and a door that locks. He wanted to take him somewhere where he _wouldn't_ have to sell his body in order to eat, where he could sing for his own pleasure and not the pleasure of the horny closeted men of Ohio. "I'll get you tickets." Kurt whispered, not knowing what else he should say, "Don't say another word about it."

Blaine bit his lip hard, staring at their hands, "Thank you, Kurt." He said quietly. "Seriously…I—I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything." Kurt smiled and leaned back, picking up his menu. "So, do we want any dessert? I could really go for some of that peanut butter pie."


	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: I want to apologize for how long this chapter took. School has really taken over my life. I do/did field work in two different elementary schools as well as my normal classes on campus. I've got a project due every week and I'm just a big ball of stress right now but I wanted to update! Side note: four weeks from this moment I'll be done with the semester and then I have six weeks off to write! So if I don't update in that time it will definitely be coming not long after the first week of December.

-3-

"Tell me you want it." The husky voice whispered in his ear as the owner of the voice thrusted continuously into him.

"I want it." Blaine moaned, reaching his arm back and cradling the man's head into his shoulder. "Oh, oh _Patrick_." He cried, pulling the other man's hair. Despite his convincing ecstasy, Patrick was not who Blaine was thinking about.

"Tell me you need it." The voice ordered.

"I _need_ it, _oh_, Patrick."

Blaine continued to moan and cry out when he knew the man would want it. Patrick eventually cried out as the climax Blaine thought would never come came (no pun intended).

"Oh, Patrick." Blaine panted into the sheets of the motel bed as Patrick disposed of the condom and fell onto the bed beside him. "Of all the men I've been with I've never experience _that_." Blaine had done this enough times to know exactly what he needed to say to please his customers.

Patrick merely grinned. Arrogance, pride, and self-assurance were clear on his face. "I'm just that good." Glancing at the clock Patrick sat up. "Shit, I've got to get home. I told my wife I'd be home at eleven." Blaine glance at the clock to see it was 12:30. Patrick got up and quickly dressed, pulling a hundred dollars in cash out of his wallet. "It was less than an hour." He said, thrusting the bills at Blaine. "That'll cover it, right?" Blaine just shrugged and nodded. It would do.

Patrick went for the door and paused, turning to the twenty-one year old. "Just remember, this never happened. You got that, faggot?" Blaine had heard that enough to be able to suppress the flinch. He just nodded and made a 'my lips are sealed' motion with his hands. "Good." And with a slam of the door Patrick was gone.

Blaine fell back onto the soiled sheets, letting his muscles relax. In all honesty, Patrick hadn't been very good, but he had been rough. Blaine's ass was on fire. "You think I'd be used to it by now." He muttered to himself, wincing as he sat up again. "Might as well shower." As he made his way to the small bathroom a buzz came from the vicinity of his pants. Crouching down he pulled his crappy cell phone from his pants pocket. It was a cheap little thing, always giving him problems. He had the cheapest plan, and rarely, if ever, used it, but a cell phone was essential in this day and age.

As he looked at who he'd received the text from he'd never been happier that he'd gotten the damn thing.

"_Hey, it's Kurt. I know you're probably busy, but do you want to get some food and drinks? I just got off."_

Blaine shivered slightly at the 'got off' but decided not to comment on it (despite the fact it was practically in his nature now to make a comment about every sexual innuendo considering his jobs).

But then he processed the message, should he go? He didn't really have the money to go out. _What are you talking about?_ His mind cried, _you just got $100!_

"No, I need that for my bills." Blaine said aloud.

_Aw, c'mon. It's Kurt Fucking Hummel. He's asking you to have fucking drinks. What moron would pass that up?_

This was true. Blaine bit down hard on his lip before nodding to himself and quickly typed _"Sure, I'd love to! Where at?"_ before he could stop himself.

His phone buzzed again, _"Is Chunk's ok? It's open all night. I can pick you up if you want."_

Blaine thought about it. Chunk's was within walking distance of this motel, and did he really want Kurt to see him in this shitty motel room with the soiled sheets and the pay-by-the-hour policy? No, he definitely didn't want Kurt-Freaking-Hummel seeing him in his natural habitat.

"_Nah, I'm nearby. I'll meet you there in a bit!"_

Kurt's response was once again immediate, _"Great! See you soon!"_

Blaine couldn't help but smile to himself. Because despite the fact he'd just taken it up the ass from some guy who's last name he didn't know and insisted on only referring to him as 'faggot', he was about to have dinner and drinks with Kurt Hummel.

"Oh God, I need to shower." He said aloud as realization hit him. And he could only thank every God out there that he had a change of clothes with him.

00

_Maybe Patrick had been rougher than I thought,_ Blaine thought to himself as he hobbled from the motel room to the restaurant/bar, backpack slung over his shoulder. _Then again, Bruce before him hadn't exactly been gentle either. Or Matthew before that…_

It had been a long night.

The pain, punctuated with every step, wasn't absolutely awful. He'd felt worse. It just wasn't the most comfortable feeling in the world.

Readjusting his backpack and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose he glanced down at his outfit. He no longer wore short-shorts and cherry red heels. Rather, with his white t-shirt and leather jacket, he wore a pair of jeans and a pair of old and worn converse. The outfit was acceptable, especially compared to the alternative. Running a hand through his slightly damp curls he shook the self-consciousness from his head and moved on – Kurt had seen him in worse (or rather, in _less_).

When he finally made it to Chunk's he was filled with relief. He'd get to see Kurt, and the two could get some drinks and talk and the exchange would certainly get Blaine through the throbbing in his ass as well as the next 'business meetings' he'd have tomorrow night. Or maybe Kurt could finally let Blaine pay him back, and this guilt would finally leave him be.

Put when he opened the door he wasn't expecting what he saw.

The restaurant was almost completely empty minus a small crowd stretched across part of the bar and to a few tables beside said bar. At first he didn't see Kurt because he was looking everywhere but the crowd, but then he realized Kurt was _smack-dab in the middle_ _of the crowd_. He was sipping from a martini glass as he laughed at something a man with a mohawk said. The brunette beside Kurt smacked the mohawked man and scolded him for whatever joke he had just told. Blaine glanced at all of them – they were all together, that was clear. But who they were Blaine didn't kn-

"Oh my God," Blaine gasped aloud as he squinted, trying to make sure he was correct. _They were the New Directions._ "Oh my God," he whispered again, starting to back up, eyes wide. There was no way in _fuck_ this was real.

"Blaine!" Kurt cried as soon as he laid eyes on him. Most of the crowd turned to look at him. He fell back against the door, debating running. Kurt detached himself from the crowd and placed his drink on the bar. He practically pranced over to the prostitute. "Blaine, I'm so glad you could make it! I was worried you were…" Kurt tried off.

"Indisposed?" Blaine finished for him, smiling slightly.

Kurt grinned, "Yeah. But seriously, I'm glad you could make it. C'mon, I'll introduce you." Kurt started to tug on his arm but Blaine pulled back.

"Kurt-Kurt, wait."

Kurt turned, worry on his face, "Is—is this a problem? I know I didn't mention it but I wanted it to be a surprise-"

"Problem?" Blaine scoffed, "Kurt—those—that's the New Directions!" Kurt grinned, pleased by Blaine's excitement. "But—I—I can't meet them! I'm just—they won't—they'll think I'm-"

"They'll _love_ you! C'mon, Blaine! It'll be fun!"

Blaine kept shaking his head, gaping like a fish, as Kurt pulled him forward. "Guys! Guys, this is Blaine!"

Several of them let out drunken greetings, or simply called out "Yeah!"

"Kurt, oh God, Kurt I can't do this, I _can't_." Blaine kept saying as Kurt pulled him closer. Blaine was about to meet his _idols_. The people he'd been following since they first made the papers. He'd saved every article about them. He fantasized about going to all their shows. He knew an embarrassing amount of information about each of them. When he had the time he went to the local library and watched videos of them online just so he could hear them sing. He had yet to do that since he met Kurt, though. Before Kurt told him stories about them they were just celebrities he could stalk…now they were people. Blaine was terrified to actually see them in person, let alone be introduced.

Especially since they were so amazing and he was just a lowly whore.

Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce were the first to walk up to them, "Blaine, this is Brittany and Santana. Girls, this is Blaine. He's a big fan of ND."

_Like I need the introduction,_ Blaine scoffed internally, but on the outside his eyes were wide and he managed to gasp out, "Oh – I – hi."

"Britt, Blaine told me the other day he thinks you're beautiful. Be right back!" Kurt said quickly, before disappearing back towards the bar.

"Kurt, wait-" Blaine gasped slightly, reaching for his…his what? His acquaintance? _Sugar daddy's more like it_, he thought cruelly to himself.

"You think I'm beautiful?" Brittany asked, eyes wide with excitement and wonder.

"Well of course, who doesn't?" Blaine managed, trying to get over being star-struck.

"Not even blind people," Santana purred, slipping her arm around Brittany's waist possessively. Blaine grinned brightly at the gesture, but didn't comment on it.

_Take a deep breath Blaine, they'll think you're crazy if you don't calm down_. Taking a calming breath Blaine allowed himself to talk. "I don't want to seem like a tool, but can I just say? Santana your voice is to _die_ for."

"Well he clearly has good taste, huh, Britt?" Santana grinned, nudging her girlfriend. Brittany nodded excitedly.

"I love your hair." She said after taking a sip of her drink. She reached out and pet the twenty-one year old's curls. "They're so soft…"

Blaine blushed deeply, "Oh, well, uh, thank you?"

"Don't worry about it, she's always like that." Santana said, shaking her head fondly, "So! How did you and Kurtsie meet?"

"We-uh-we ran into each other outside the theatre."

"You did, huh?" Santana asked, a smirk on her face. Blaine panicked for a moment, _She knows, she knows, she knows what I am, oh God, she knows_. "I bet you two hit it off real nice, huh?"

"Oh back off Santana, he's my friend. Stop assuming I'm sleeping with every guy I meet." _He's my friend_, Blaine couldn't help but stare at Kurt in wonder as he rejoined the trio, his martini back in hand. Kurt had just called Blaine his friend, _I'm Kurt Hummel's friend._ _He's not just another customer._

"Ah, Kurtsie, I just want what's best for you!" The girl grinned brightly.

Before Blaine or Kurt could say anything a new voice called out, "Kurt, why haven't _we_ been introduced to your friend yet?" _Jesus Christ, I really _am_ his friend!_ Trying to get over the giddiness he was feeling Blaine turned to the new voice. He had to stop from gasping in awe once again as he laid eyes on Rachel Berry and Mercedes Jones. _Holy crap, there's no way I'm not dreaming_.

"Oh Rachel, calm yourself. Girls, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is Rachel and Mercedes."

Blaine just nodded dumbly, but the girls were far more talkative, "Hey! Kurt just told me you're a big fan of ours, right?" Blaine, again, just nodded. "Well, you definitely need to come to a show then!" Keeping up the pattern Blaine just nodded numbly.

"What about you, pretty boy?" Mercedes asked, her smile bright and inviting. "You know what we do, but what about you? What do you do?"

"I'm – uh –" _Totally fucked._

"He's a dancer!" Kurt cut in suddenly, saving Blaine…though 'he's a dancer' never sounds that great. "And – and a singer! I mean, _god_, you guys should hear his voice!" Blaine wondered to himself how much everyone had had to drink before he got there or if Kurt was always this talkative and excitable around his friends. Then the star's words actually registered. _Kurt thinks I can sing?_

"We got ourselves a singer here?" Came a male voice and Blaine turned to see the mohawked man from before – Noah Puckerman, he knew – was standing there. "Let's see what chu' got, boy!" He cried, swinging his beer bottle and pushing Blaine toward the karaoke area. Blaine wondered what number drink _he_ was on.

Several others in the group cheered and Blaine quickly shook his head, eyes bugging out. "No – no way, man, no way!"

"C'mon cutie! It'll be fun!" Brittany cried, suddenly by his side.

"I can't sing for _you guys_!" Blaine squawked, turning to Kurt for support.

Kurt just smiled brightly, "Come on, Blaine, it'll be fun! When else are we gonna get to hear you sing?" Blaine froze for a second, pondering Kurt's words. He'd said 'when are we going to get to hear you sing' not 'when are you going to get to sing for us' as if _they_ were the ones benefiting and not him. "I mean, if you really don't want to I won't make you…"

"But…" Blaine said, hearing Kurt trail off.

"But you know it'll be so fun!"

Blaine rolled his eyes, "Ok – maybe – maybe one song…" _You guys probably won't even remember in the morning anyway_.

"Yeah!" Several of them cried out and Blaine awkwardly made his way to the karaoke stage, trying his best not to hobble obviously. He really wished he'd gotten a drink first. _Well,_ he thought as the opening notes to Katy Perry's 'Teenage Dream' began to play, _here goes nothing_. The group started to go crazy at they recognized the song, before Blaine even got the chance to start singing.

"_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on, you think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong. I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down._" Some of the girls drunkenly sang along but as Blaine's eyes locked on Kurt's he could see he had the other man's complete attention. He looked into Kurt's eyes as he sang the next lines "_Before you met me, I was alright but things were kind of heavy, you brought me to life_" He felt kind of stupid, all but singing to this man he hardly knew, but he couldn't stop himself. Kurt _had_ changed a lot for Blaine in the short amount of time they'd know each other.

Kurt reminded Blaine that there were still good people in the world. People who did something nice just because it was right (like give a hooker a grand because he felt bad for him). Kurt was one of his idols – an openly gay man who made a living singing and dancing and being _perfect_ and proving that being gay meant nothing. You were still who you were and you could still do what you loved.

Blaine wished he'd had that kind of role model when he was crying himself to sleep on park benches because his father would rather Blaine die on the streets than be gay.

But now, here…here he was. Singing a song at a bar while his idols watched, singing along drunkenly.

"_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream, the way you turn me on,_" The whole group was singing (shouting) along by the time Blaine got to the chorus, but his eyes were still on Kurt who was calmly singing along while watching Blaine with an unreadable look in his eye. "_I can't sleep, let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back._"

Blaine couldn't help but smile as he sang the words. _Don't ever look back_. Well, Blaine certainly wasn't going to look back from _this_ moment, that's for damn sure.


	4. Chapter 4

-4-

When Blaine awoke the next morning he wasn't in his own bed. He was in a ridiculously soft one, and for a second he wondered if he was sleeping on a cloud. He ran his hands over the pajamas he was wearing. It wasn't what he normally wore, because his sweatshirt and sweatpants were definitely _not_ made of silk and were _not_ this soft. The bed was not his bed…but it felt was familiar.

_It's Kurt's guest room_. He told himself, chest swelling with excitement.

He then noticed his head hurt, and the night before came rushing back. He remembered drinking with the _fucking New Directions_. He remembered singing for them, and he remembered them going wild. He remembered right after he sang his song Mercedes and Rachel had made their way on stage and belted out some Barbra and some Beyoncé. He remembered Kurt doing a (completely delicious) rendition of the single ladies dance. He remembered doing shots with fucking _Finn Hudson_ and_ Mike Chang_. He remembered fumbling with his wallet and trying to pay but being stopped by fucking _Artie Abrams_.

For a minute he told himself that it was all a dream, and that he was lying on his bed in his shitty apartment. That he had never met Kurt Hummel and he _hadn't_ spent last night with his fucking idols

But then he opened his eyes and he realized he _was_ in Kurt's guest room.

Last night _actually fucking happened_.

Trying to shake himself from his stupor Blaine reached over and snatched his glasses off the bedside table. They weren't very helpful, his eyesight sucked and he hadn't gotten a new prescription since he was 16, but they were better than nothing. As he slipped them on the room came into slightly better focus and he glanced around.

Yup, definitely Kurt Hummel's guest room.

"How is this my life?" He whispered to himself, forgetting to breathe.

He pushed back the covers and climbed out of the bed. Glancing at the clock he noted it was still early, almost 8 AM. He padded towards the kitchen, grinning to himself that he'd actually been in Kurt Hummel's apartment _twice_ now and knew where things were. He glanced into Kurt's bedroom as he passed it and noticed the man was still asleep. As he passed the living room he froze, surprised to see several of the girls from New Directions asleep there.

He quickly made his way into the kitchen, afraid of waking up them up. He wondered why they were there. He vaguely remembered drunkenly accepting Kurt's invite to sleep over, but he didn't remember the girls coming over too. Had he been _that_ drunk?

He fumbled with the coffee maker for a minute before nearly jumping out of his skin as someone spoke beside him. "Up early?"

"Jesus Christ!" Blaine whispered, jumping to the side and spilling coffee grinds on the counter.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!" The dainty hand of Rachel Berry quickly slapped Blaine's hand away and cleaned up the grinds.

Blaine had to stop himself from staring at her before he brought his attention back to the coffee maker. _How is this real life that I'm making coffee in _Kurt Hummel's_ apartment_ _(in his_ pajamas_) while _Rachel Berry_ stands next to me? How is this _my life_?_

"So you really crashed last night, huh?" Blaine raised an eyebrow at the star, unsure of what she was talking about. "You were out like a light when the girls and I came over." Oh, so he hadn't forgotten them coming. Good, he hadn't thought he was _that_ drunk. But wait, they came over and he was passed out cold? He wondered what they talked about.

_Oh God, what if Kurt told them?_

"So Kurt seems to like you a lot." Rachel was saying, pulling Blaine from his thoughts. "That's good, he hasn't ever had too many friends besides us."

"I find that hard to believe." Blaine said without thinking. At the look Rachel gave him Blaine quickly focused on the coffee maker, slamming the lid closed with more force than needed.

"Well, maybe now that he's famous and everyone wants to be his friend." Rachel laughed a little, "But…he was bullied a lot when we were kids."

Blaine froze in his movements, coffee pot half filled. "He was…he was bullied?" Memories of being slammed into lockers, pushed down the steps, knocked down in the parking lot, and having his torso kicked repeatedly suddenly flooded Blaine's brain. He shuddered at the thought of what happened to him when he was in school. He remembered one night in particular. He could remember being curled up in a ball on the dirty ground behind the gymnasium. He remembered being so sure he was going to die, and that no one, especially his parents, would even care.

He couldn't imagine that being Kurt's life. Kurt was…well, not delicate. Definitely not delicate. But Kurt was _Kurt_. He was sweet, he was amazing, he was kind. Hurting him would be hurting an angel. Who would hurt an angel?

"Yeah. I mean, I'm sure you're aware Lima isn't the most _accepting_ place. He got a lot of crap just for being who he was."

Blaine hands slowly fell from the coffee maker to the counter. His chest felt tight, he felt pressure behind his eyes, his throat felt like it was on fire. Just the thought of Kurt being treated like he was…he couldn't even fathom it.

"…Blaine? Blaine, are you ok?" He felt Rachel's hand on his shoulder and quickly straightened, trying to get his emotions in check.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He said, sniffling. Running his fist under his nose he went back to making the coffee.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked softly, running her hand up and down his arm. He gave her a tight smile and nodded. "You know, Blaine…you're good for Kurt."

Blaine froze yet again, "What?"

"About a month ago he started acting a lot happier. He just…got this glow to him. And then two weeks later he mentioned you, and then we finally got to meet you…now here we are."

"Here we are." Blaine whispered, "I…there's no way I'm good for him."

Rachel paused, "What?"

"He's done so much for me. He…helped me out. And then he introduced me to you guys…and what have I done for him? I've been nothing but a burden."

"Now I'm sure that's not true." Rachel said seriously, "I don't know much about your relationship but from the way Kurt looked when you showed up last night? I'd see he doesn't see you as a burden."

Blaine glanced at Rachel, "Really?"

"Yes." She said, a smile playing across her lips.

Blaine stared at her for a long moment, suddenly remembering that this girl was a household name. This was someone he'd obsessed over for the past few years, someone most everyone knew, and here she was giving him a pep talk and a bright smile. "How is this my life?" He said aloud for the umpteenth time.

Rachel laughed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just…you're _Rachel Berry_. And you and I are standing in _Kurt Hummel's_ kitchen making coffee at 8 AM. You guys are famous. And I'm just a—" Blaine stopped, preventing himself from admitting what he did for money. "Uh, I'm just me."

"Aww, c'mon now. You're seeing me standin' here in my PJ's. And last night was a blast! I'd say we're past the celebrity/fan relationship."

"You would?"

"Yeah, Blaine, I'd say we're friends. And I'd _certainly_ say you and Kurt are friends." Blaine glanced down as the coffee maker beeped. They really were _friends_. He was friends with the people he's admired for so long, the people he aspired to be like. He wasn't alone. Everything everyone always said to him about dying alone…maybe they were wrong.

Rachel nudged him, pulling him from his thoughts. "Coffee's done. I could sure go for a cup."

00

The girls (minus Quinn, who had served as a designated driver before heading home) were gathered around Kurt's kitchen table sipping coffee as Kurt emerged around 9:30.

"There he is!" Tina (or maybe it was Mercedes, Kurt wasn't sure) cried brightly.

"Ugh, lower thy voice, child." Kurt mumbled, going straight for the coffee. Taking a long, deep sip Kurt chugged half the cup and sighed contently. "Aaah…that first sip." He turned to the girls who were now staring at him. Lifting his cup he said, "Thanks, whoever made this."

"It was Blaine." Rachel said, before taking a sip from her own cup.

Kurt glanced towards the hall that led to his room and the guest room. "Did he leave?" He asked, trying the squelch his disappointment as he already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Rachel said, "He said he had to go home and clean up before heading to work." Kurt just nodded, trying not to let them see his disappointment.

"So, Kurtsie, what's up with that kid anyway?" Santana asked.

"What do you mean?"

Mercedes cut in, "Yeah, he was a sweet kid and all, but he was a little…I don't know. Skittish."

"Skittish?"

"Yeah, like he didn't know how to act around us."

"Well, he did say he was a huge fan of ours. How else do you think he'd act?" Kurt asked. "Not to mention, he's way calmer than some people we've met before. He's a step up."

"I'm not saying he wasn't nice or anything, I'm just saying…I don't know. Something was a little off."

"I think it was because he was gettin' it up the ass before he came to meet us." Santana said bluntly, as she took a sip from her cup.

"Santana!" Rachel cried, scandalized, while Kurt's chest tightened. _Was Santana aware of Blaine's…er…employment?_

"Oh come on! Did you not all notice how he hobbled or how uncomfortable he was on those bar stools?"

"I didn't notice." Kurt said a little too quickly.

"I didn't either," Rachel said, "I think you're making this up."

"I am not, Berry! Kurt, tell me, does he have a boyfriend?"

Kurt shook his head, "Ah, I mean, I-I don't think so."

"That settles it, you're just imagining things." Rachel said, rolling her eyes. Santana returned the gesture.

"I liked him." Brittany said, "He was really nice and his hair was really soft. He should hang around more often."

"I agree!" Tina said, Mercedes nodded too.

Kurt couldn't help but grin at that, relaxing a bit at the change of subject. "I'll have to tell him you guys said that. He's still totally star struck even though I tell him not to be." Kurt went back to pour himself another cup of coffee as the subject was changed to the shows they were doing today. Rachel slipped from the table and padded over to Kurt.

Speaking quietly she said, "So…Kurt…what _about_ Blaine?"

Kurt side-eyed her, "What do you mean?"

"There's something about him. I mean…ok, not even the star-struck thing. He just seems so…lost."

Kurt bit down hard on his lower lip. She was right. 'Lost' was the perfect word for Blaine. Kurt knew things were bad for him, but he couldn't force the kid to open up. "There's not much I can do for him." Kurt said quietly, eyes downcast.

"He is gay, right?" Rachel asked suddenly, surprising Kurt. "I don't mean it like for you to date him I just mean—well, when I mentioned you were bullied as a kid-"

"You what?"

"It wasn't a big deal, I promise! He just kept saying he was a burden to you-"

"He's not a burden." Kurt said automatically.

"-and I was trying to convince him otherwise." Rachel finished pointedly. She glanced at the girls, who were completely absorbed in conversation, and pulled Kurt out into the hall. "As soon as I mentioned the bullying it was like…I don't know. He went somewhere else. Did he get bullied too?"

"_Your little redneck buddies aren't gonna come out and beat me with a shovel?" _

"_A group of people jumped out of the bushes and almost bashed my skull in."_

"_A guy purposely crashed his car."_

"_One guy chanted verses from the bible as he tried to choke me to death." _

"I don't know if he was bullied as a kid." Kurt said, quickly snapping back to reality.

He clearly put too much emphasis on 'as a kid' because Rachel's eyebrows shot up and she said, "And as an adult…?"

Kurt bit down hard on his lip again. "Look, Rachel, it's really not my place-"

"Just tell me straight: is he a drug dealer?"

"What? No! Why would you-"

"I didn't think so but that kind of thing can really ruin your career, Kurt."

_I've already fucking thought of this every fucking night since I met him, Rachel_. "This kind of thing? What, making friends?"

"You know what I mean Kurt. I think you're good for Blaine and he's good for you – that's more important than your career. But you _do_ have to take it into consideration! And I know how you are, I know you want to help someone who's going through what you went through, but if he's into shady stuff-" Kurt looked away, he couldn't lie to Rachel. Not point blank. Not about something so big. "Kurt, please, what kind of trouble is this kid in?" She sounded earnest. Not like she was worried about his career anymore, but more about Blaine himself.

"This is his tale to tell Rachel."

"Kurt, please, if you've gotten yourself into something bad I want to know."

Kurt chewed on his lip some more (it was going to be raw by the end of the morning). He didn't want to tell Rachel, he didn't. But having someone else's input would be the biggest life-saver. "It's not…it's not _that_ bad…" He said.

Rachel stepped closer to Kurt, as if not wanting him to speak louder than a whisper. "What is it?"

"He…he may do some scandalous deeds in the night…for money…"

Rachel let out a sad gasp/sigh. "Oh, Kurt…"

"It's not that bad, Rachel! I mean – politicians get away with this stuff all the time. And the two of us didn't sleep together – I _swear_. I mean, he wants to because I gave him money but we didn't-"

"Oh, honey, I believe you, but I really don't think the press will."

"I know," Kurt moaned, falling into the wall behind him, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just – he needs my help, Rachel. He does. He may think he's doing fine but he lives in a _shanty_ the size of my _bathroom_ with a hundred some other people. It's dangerous, it's dirty, and then he has to go out at night and sell himself just so he can pay his rent. And then these righteous so called do-gooders try to hurt him for what he is and I just-"

"What do you mean hurt him?"

Kurt sighed, "He may have told me about a few run-ins with religious homophobes who felt like they were doing God's work by trying to kill a this boy just because he's gay-"

"Kill him? Oh my God!"

"Shhh!" Kurt quickly shushed her, pressing his hand over his mouth and glancing back towards the kitchen. A loud laugh echoed to the hall, telling Kurt the girls hadn't overheard them. "Keep it down, Rachel!"

"I'm sorry!" She whispered back quickly. "I just—kill him?"

"You know how people are in this town."

"I know but just…oh Blaine…" She looked away, pale as a ghost as she sank against the wall Kurt had just been leaning against.

"Do you see now why I was secretive about my new friend at first?"

Rachel nodded, still looking white as a sheet. "I want to help him too. Can you give him my number? Give me his too. Any time he needs help I want to-"

"Rachel, he can't know I told you!"

"Why? I'm just another helping hand-"

"That's the thing, he doesn't want our pity. I gave him some money before and he's been practically begging me to fuck him ever since. He feels guilty taking hand outs – he doesn't want them."

"Well then I won't give him money. I'll give him my friendship." Kurt raised an eyebrow, "A friendship that comes with the richer friend paying for meals and inviting him to sleep over." Kurt rolled his eyes, "Hey, that's what you've been doing!"

"Because I was his only life line, ok!" Kurt quickly bit his lip, "Oh man I sound so arrogant right now."

"No, you don't." Rachel pushed off from the wall, "Seriously Kurt, I want to help him too. Invite him around more often, maybe he'll learn to trust me."

"You'd risk your career for a kid you hardly know?" Kurt asked, eyebrow raised.

"He…reminds me of a boy I knew growing up. A wonderful, kind, amazing, talented boy. I can't just leave him in the dark to rot, career or no." Kurt's eyes were wide, a soft smile playing across his lips.

"Oh, Rachel. You've grown up so much from the conceited diva I met freshman year."

Rachel laughed and shook her head, "Shut up, pretty boy."

"Hey, where'd Rachel and Kurt go?" The loud voice of Mercedes floated into the hall.

"Our absence has been noticed, guess we better go back in." Kurt said and Rachel nodded, they turned back to the door but Rachel stopped, pulling Kurt's arm.

"I mean it Kurt. Bring him around more, ok? If being with us means free meals and not having sex with guys who want to kill him I'm all for it. And besides, he seems like a really sweet kid." Kurt smiled, but said nothing more.

He had a lot to think about.


End file.
